Interlude
by Lady Azura
Summary: After being so unceremoniously dumped by Jackson, Lydia seeks out a distraction.
Summary: _After being so unceremoniously dumped by Jackson, Lydia seeks out a distraction._

Disclaimer: Don't own _Teen Wolf_. 'Nuff said.

Author's Note: I don't know where this came from.

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 **Interlude** **  
** _ **By: Lady Azura**_

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Lydia Martin was on the prowl.

Jackson may have broken up with her – may have tossed her aside like a pair of last season shoes – but she was still Lydia Martin. She was the Queen Bee of Beacon Hills High. Guys still wanted her and girls still wanted to _be_ her; she'd find someone new in no time. Arm candy for the Winter Formal to parade around until Jackson came to his senses because obviously he had lost them if he thought for one second that she was "baggage" who could be dumped so unceremoniously.

So the following morning, she got to school early to watch the lacrosse team practice. She sat on the bleachers, notepad and pen in hand, keeping an eye out for potentials. Scott was out of the question; she'd already gotten a taste of him and while their heated makeout session had been fun, her conscience couldn't allow her to do that to Allison again, even if they weren't together anymore. She wasn't _that_ evil. Danny was also not a candidate and not just because he played for the other team. He was Jackson's best friend and, therefore, off limits.

Scrutinizing the rest of her options, Lydia looked for someone physically appealing but who also didn't remind her too much of Jackson.

"What are you doing?" Allison's voice dragged her attention away from the field and to the brunette currently climbing up the bleachers toward her. She flashed her friend a smile and patted the empty spot next to her.

"Boy watching, obviously."

Allison shot her a confused look as she sat down. "What about Jackson?"

" _Jackson_ is old news." Lydia lied effortlessly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Uh-huh." Allison gave her a smile that indicated that she knew full well that the strawberry-blonde was bluffing but didn't press her, for which Lydia was thankful. She'd made a good choice with _this_ best friend.

Rubbing her hands together to keep them warm, the brunette perked up and peered onto the field at the players, who were now in the midst of doing suicides – Coach's favorite form of punishment – deliberately avoiding her ex all the while. Lydia was about to tease her for it when the other girl spoke. "What about Stiles?"

"Who?" She responded out of habit.

"24." Allison said, pointing.

Her gaze zeroed in on the player in question, who looked about ready to pass out from overexertion.

Lydia knew who Stiles was, of course. It was hard _not_ to notice someone who fawned so openly over her and still left gawdy, heart-shaped cards in her locker every Valentine's Day. He was also the Sheriff's son, which didn't exactly earn him brownie points. Not that she had anything against Sheriff Stilinski, personally, but as far as the "In" crowd was concerned, being the son of a cop made Stiles something of a pariah – and that was _before_ one took into account his reputation as a loser (Jackson's words, not hers) and colossal smart ass who didn't know when to shut up. Still, ever since Scott McCall skyrocketed up the social ladder, he had become more than just a blip on her radar, even if it was only because of who his best friend was.

She threw Allison a disbelieving look. "You're joking, right?"

"What?" Allison laughed. "He's nice, funny, smart –"

"Spastic, weird, _completely_ obsessed with me –" Lydia added.

"I thought you liked it when guys ogled you."

Well, she couldn't deny that.

"He's not my type." Lydia dismissed.

"Sometimes change is a good thing. Do you really want another meathead who just sees you as a notch on his bedpost?"

 _Touch_ _é,_ _Ally._ _Touch_ _é._

"Just think about it. It's always the ones you least expect that surprise you." Allison said quietly, staring ahead longingly.

Allison's words, and by extension, _Stiles_ , stuck with her throughout the remainder of the day. She watched him like a hawk, observing from a distance and taking notes. Despite having the attention span of a rodent, his grades were almost as good as hers – unlike his best friend, who was failing miserably. He spoke fast and had a tendency to go off on of tangents but his arguments, when she listened closely, were actually pretty sound, backed by facts and evidence.

He wasn't bad on the eyes, either. He'd actually be kind of cute if he grew out his hair a little and ditched the flannel.

She tapped the end of her pen against her bottom lip.

No, she decided at the end of third period, Stiles wasn't her type, but he could do for now. She wasn't settling, she told herself. She just knew potential when she saw it, and because she was Lydia Martin, everyone was bound to follow her lead. She was a trend _setter_ , after all, and if Lydia Martin decided that Stiles Stilinski was worth her time, that was that. No ands, ifs or buts.

So she waited in between periods, taking her time to fix up her lipgloss while everyone else scurried to their next class. Using her compact to spy, she watched as Stiles opened his locker, only to have everything fall out. As he scrambled to shove it all back in, her lingering presence went unnoticed. Unacceptable, but she might let it slide this one time if he satisfied her enough. It was only when they were the last two remaining that Lydia finally snapped her compact shut and approached him, clearing her throat to get his attention.

"Ahem."

He whipped around, limbs flailing almost cartoonishly, clearly startled.

"Who's the – Lydia! Hi!" He looked genuinely surprised (and a little confused and flustered) to see her there. A noticeable flush crept up his neck as he struggled to find the right words to say. "Uh, how can I – did you, uh, need something?"

She sized him up one last time.

"You'll do."

Before Stiles could respond, Lydia hooked a perfectly manicured finger into the collar of his shirt and proceeded to lead him away from the lockers – and the security cameras – and down to her favorite room in the whole school. Finstock would be teaching Freshmen Econ on the opposite side of the building, which meant that his office was vacant, and therefore the perfect spot for privacy.

Locking the door behind them, she wasted no time pushing Stiles back against the desk and closing the distance between them. Stiles made a surprised noise, his whole body going rigid, but just when she was having second thoughts for the umpteenth time that day and about to pull away (and threaten to castrate him if he ever breathed a word of their tryst to anyone) his lips began to move against hers.

They were hesitant at first, soft and slow, but when she deepened it, slipping her tongue into his mouth, he followed her lead. For someone who had famously never gotten any action – often bemoaning his virgin status for the whole world to hear – he was a damn good kisser, she realized as their tongues met. His hands fell to her hips, squeezing them lightly and pulling her closer. Already, she could feel his body reacting to her, and smirked into the kiss while reaching down.

"Mmmph – wait." He broke the kiss as soon as her fingers grazed his belt buckle, face flushed and lips swollen and eyes clouded with lust. "What are we… what about –"

Lydia gave him a tight smile.

"Today is your lucky day, Stilinski." She told him. "But keep in mind, this is your one and only chance, so I suggest you make it worth my while."

Turning them around so that she could lift herself onto the desk, she felt her skirt rise up in the process but didn't bother adjusting it. What would be the point? Stiles swallowed hard, trying not to stare. It was almost endearing, but she had needs that needed tending to, and with that in mind, she smiled invitingly.

"Well?"

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, his mouth was back on hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, gripping the back of his neck with one hand while the other trailed down his back. Gone was the caution he'd exercised before; he kissed her like it was his last day on Earth, tongue mapping every inch of her mouth while his hands roamed unfamiliar territory – down her thighs and under her knees and back up again, hiking her skirt up until it was bunched around her waist. When they finally broke apart for air, they were both gasping for breath. Her lips were tingling and her face was hot and an all too familiar heat had begun to pool between her legs. A brief glance south saw that she wasn't the only one.

And then he was pulling away, causing her legs to slip from his waist. Lydia frowned, about to protest when he dropped to his knees.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Well, this was a pleasant surprise: a guy who actually _wanted_ to go down on her and didn't need to be asked first.

His eyes flickered up to meet hers.

"Can I?"

A coy grin tugged at Lydia's lips, but on the inside, she could barely contain her excitement.

"I'm not stopping you, am I?"

Taking that as affirmation to continue, he wasted no time tugging down the lacy barrier between him and his destination and tossing it aside. Placing his hands on her thighs, he pushed them apart and went to work. Her head fell back, lips parting in a silent moan as his mouth and tongue did wonders, plunging in and out, swirling and stroking until she couldn't think straight. Her hands gripped the back of his head, hips canting, pushing his face further into her but Stiles didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, moaning against her and reaching around to grab her buttocks, digging blunt nails into her skin.

It took all her strength not to cry out when she reached her peak, toes curling and body trembling as her orgasm ripped through her. Stiles stayed where he was as she slowly came down from her high, still lapping at the sensitive bundle between her legs. She had to force herself to push him back before she could get worked up again, even though her body ached for it.

The other teen blinked as he slowly rose to his feet, mouth glistening with – well, _her_.

"So," he said once she regained her composure. "Did I make it worth your while?"

His voice sounded raspier than usual.

Lydia huffed out a laugh, smoothing down her skirt and sliding off the edge of Finstock's desk.

"I think you may have exceeded my expectations." She told him with a smirk. "And here I thought you were a virgin."

"I – yeah." He stammered, looking more than a little embarrassed. "I am."

"Hm. So, what you did just now was… what? Beginner's luck?"

"Porn." Stiles clarified. "Lots and lots of porn. So much."

Ah.

"Well," Lydia said after a moment, sparing a glance at the clock hanging above the door. They still had more than enough time. Her eyes flashed mischievously as she placed a hand on Stiles' chest and gave him a light shove, sending him stumbling back into a nearby chair. There, she made herself comfortable on his lap.

"I guess we're going to have to rectify that, aren't we?"

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FIN

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I have no idea where this came from, but I'm going to say it happens sometime between after "Lunatic" – so somewhere between, let's say, "Wolf's Bane" and "Formality". Canon-divergence, obviously. Also my first time writing Lydia, specifically season 1 Lydia which was so long ago and she's come so far as a character that it was hard to get back into thinking what she was like then and what her priorities were, especially before getting directly involved in all the supernatural stuff.


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